


Hips Do Lie

by DustToDust



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discussion of the new Grandmaster's stride is something that is furtive, and done in secret. Never to be said where the man could hear you. Unless you're Malik that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hips Do Lie

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes. There was talk of the Assassin strut on Tumblr. Altair's sway and what it would look like without the robe or armor. This is the inevitable conclusion really.

It's late, well beyond the hour that anyone in the city should still be up. The current Bureau leader is deep asleep in his chambers, and there are no other Assassins in the city at the moment. The Bureau should be clear, and Altair no doubt thinks he will be completely unobserved at this hour. 

Proving him wrong will be a great lesson for the Grandmaster. Both for thinking he will not be caught and for thinking himself clever enough to hide the fact he was making stupid plans from Malik.

Malik hears him long before Altair comes falling in through the roof entrance to the Bureau. He's preceded by the soft chiming of metal on metal and tiny bells that not even Altair with all of his skill can completely silence. Malik leans against the wall and doesn't bother hiding his broad grin as Altair tumbles down to the ground. A blur of motion and color that would have been graceful if the man obviously hadn't realized he wasn't alone halfway through it and fumbled the landing.

"You know, Altair," Malik says after several moments of the Grandmaster staring at him in dumbfounded horror, "when I said that the way you walk could distract anyone, _this_ is not exactly what I meant for you to take from it."

_This_ is Altair dressed in some bastardized dancing girl's clothing from some of the more nomadic people who stick to more desolated areas. All thin, almost invisible fabric, with shiny baubles sewn into it, flowing ribbons to emphasize movement, and absolutely no stitch of cloth in place to hide any of Altair's muscled body from the gaze of others.

Malik appreciates what the cloth does to Altair, and he assumes the target did too for all of the few seconds Altair let him live.

"I-" were it any lighter, Malik might see some flush to Altair's skin as the man tries to appear aloof and not as if he is measuring out his options for a quick escape. He clears his throat and stands. Face carefully blank even as the clothing sways with the movement of his body in a way that is far more distracting than usual. Altair tries to go on the offense, snapping out, "Why aren't you in Masyaf? We cannot leave the Brotherhood-"

"And miss the chance to see this? Never!" Malik smirks cutting the man off as he gestures at Altair's clothing. He's not letting Altair worm his way out of this ridiculous situation anytime soon. Not without a few jabs first. "I knew you were hatching some stupid plan from the look on your face, but I never thought it would be _this_ asinine. I truly think you've outdone yourself here, Altair. Tell me, did the target flip a few coins your way before you killed him?"

The merchant hadn't, but the veritable army of mercenaries he employed _had_. Malik hadn't been close enough to see how much exactly but he thinks it was a decent enough amount to make most anyone reconsider their choice in work.

"The target had very specific tastes, and all other attempts to reach him have failed until now," Altair crosses his arms over his chest, and that sets some of the little charms jingling merrily again. Malik watches as Altair struggles to not react to it. Trying to appear firm and unconcerned with his attire in front of an audience. 

He fails miserably, though Malik has to give him credit for trying. Were it anyone else confronting Altair, they would no doubt buy into his act. Malik grins even wider when Altair crumbles and darts over to the neatly folded pile of clothing in the darkest corner of the room. He keeps his back stubbornly to Malik as he ruthlessly strips the outfit off. Not taking care to keep from tearing the delicate cloth. His voice is gruff and angry to cover the utter mortification he's feeling. "You had no better idea how to finish the mission!"

Free of the cloth, Altair's skin looks darker. The shiny and puckered scars that are an Assassin's lot in life appearing. The material had done a surprisingly good job concealing them. Malik had not realized what he was not seeing before.

"No, but had you waited a single day, I am sure I could have come up with a better plan," Malik pushes off from the wall and saunters over. He bends and picks up a silken sash that's so smooth it almost slips through his fingers. Malik raises his eyebrows in surprise, because this outfit is not some cheap costume thrown together. This is actual _quality_ clothing. "Where did you get this?"

"I was owed a favor," Altair replies and doesn't elaborate any further. All of his attention on ridding himself of the pants that aren't as sheer or fragile as they look from afar. There's buckles and catches cleverly hidden and only visible now because Malik is watching Altair work them open. 

Still saving people on the streets. It's a habit the man has only recently acquired and Malik is disinclined to break him of it. "I see, and did they also teach you to walk like your entire spine is liquid?"

"No!" Altair snarls as he undoes one last buckle and the clothing drops leaving him completely bare. His shoulders straighten and he stands tall with a glare. "Would you leave that alone?"

Altair's gait has ever been a sore spot to the man. His loose limbed gait, and small size had often led to confusion about his gender when he was very young. It hadn't lasted long, but the memories of Novices were long. Their taunts had been wide and scattered until they found one of the few sore spots Altair had. They'd stung deep enough to stick with him even now despite the fact he has proven how very deadly his reaction time is when he's not holding himself stiff like most Novices are taught. 

Malik has seen more than a few of their current Novices trying to move with the same sway Altair has. Imitating something that is actually instinctive to the man. It has been entertaining watching the young men try it after studying the Grandmaster for hours on end. The sway in Altair's step more evident while wearing the black robes that do not allow the thicker armor the rest of the Brotherhood wears.

It has also led to some very _interesting_ reactions from the rest of the Brotherhood. Reactions Malik had immediately pointed out to Altair at the most inopportune time apparently. 

"No," Malik doesn't look away as Altair dresses slowly. In this Altair is completely immodest. "You dressed up as a dancing _woman_ , Altair. I don't think I will be leaving any part of this mission alone for a good long while."

"You would harp on about this to the day I die, wouldn't you?" Altair asks. Wry and muffled by the shirt he's pulling on.

"Beyond that even," Malik smirks and flicks the scarf at Altair's face when it emerges. He folds himself down onto a nearby cushion and settles in. "Now, tell me how the mission went. Spare me no details and I _might_ consider leaving a few out of our official reports."

Malik knows very well how the mission went, but watching Altair flinch under the demand makes the several days trip out of Masyaf worth it. He kneels to gather the remnants of the costume. Stubbornly silent and stalling. For all the haste and disregard he paid to taking the dancing clothes off, Altair is careful in folding them up.

"Or," Malik prods with a mockingly gentle manner, "you can explain yourself to the Rafiq. I am sure he would love to hear about your night as a dancer."

"I loathe you," Altair says with the kind of sigh usually saves for the stupidest of Novices. And Malik when he chooses to be difficult.

"No you do not," Malik rebuts with utter confidence as he waves at another cushion. "Now sit and entertain me while I try to think up some reasonable story that won't make the whole Order look like a poor joke."

Pulling the story out of Altair is a little like trying to make a stubborn camel move, and is worth far more than the stitch in his side he gets from laughing too much at the sullen expression on Altair's face. Far, far more when Altair jolts awake sometime just before the sun rises with a sudden revelation that's almost a week too late, "You said I can distract anyone. _Who_ do I distract by walking? Malik!"

Malik snorts and rolls over onto his side. Ignoring the hisses and prodding fingers as Altair tries to pull the answer out of him, "Go back to sleep, you idiot, or I'll make you dance the whole way back to Masyaf."


End file.
